I've taken the liberty of using as my Avitar a self portrait of me the moment I had the revelation that I wasn't alone and had at last been able to put a name to it (my faith).
I share with you here the memory of the time when my belief began to stir. I was about four and my Dad was introducing me to two of his passions - eating spagetti and Rugby. We'd just finished our usual breakfast of Spag Bol and had made our way to our back-yard to be initiated into the great game by Dad and uncle Bill.
Dad threw the ball to me and I was immediately tackled by Bill, a big bloke. The inevitable happened and I puked all over Bill's boots. Commonly called a technicolor yawn down here. I seem to remember crying and bing told not to be such a queen but I do believe that it created in me the first stirrings of faith. Ever since I've been addicted to both pastimes.
